I know what you mean

the way you sit
on your bicycle at the end
of the driveway, training wheels
firmly grounded, helmet
a size too big for your head.

The world is out there
a pedal push away
each rotation a revelation—
a turning into self.

But today, it’s enough
to set your gaze
on the street corner—
one block you can build on.

You don’t look back
on your short life,
the single story house,
the LEGOs in the front room
you can’t stack high enough.

Everything ahead circles
until you’re speeding
toward college
or down the aisle

or off to defend something
you can’t see
in that small rearview mirror
attached to your handlebars.

Now, though, the sun
is just over the horizon,
the wind a soft sparkle
in the streamers hanging
from your banana seat,

and your heart will pump and pump and pump
until you find yourself
at the end of your boulevard
maybe even beyond.

Copyright © 2019 by AJ Saur, from Odds n’ Ends (Murmuration Press)